Red Eyed Monster
by RanMouri82
Summary: Jealousy is said to be the green eyed monster, but for Mouri Ran, it's red.


**Author's Note:** This was based on a LiveJournal challenge about character quirks, and few quirks beat Ran's insane jealousy. Whenever she thinks Shin'ichi's cheating on her or that someone's trying to steal him, this otherwise sweet girl becomes downright feral!

* * *

_Red Eyed Monster_

It was a party that _he_ had invited her to attend.

Mouri Ran knew that much. It made perfect sense that he had invited her, as Kudou Shin'ichi was her childhood friend and, since last month, her fiancé. _It _does_ make perfect sense_, thought Ran, sipping her punch as the strangers surrounding her peppered her with questions about everything from the 'Sleeping Kogorou's' return to the Metropolitan Police to Shin'ichi's amazing deduction of the murder case in the new art museum. She also thought it made perfect sense that the same museum's owner, Irabu Michihiko, would invite Shin'ichi to the party as an honored guest; since Ran had also helped Shin'ichi catch the criminal, she would be expected to accompany him. _Perfect sense._

Ran leaned on the baby grand piano behind her, letting her violet cocktail dress, the one that Sonoko and she had spent three hours buying, droop its multiple spaghetti straps on her tensed shoulders while she stared across the room.

_So what is he doing with that _girl?

Along the expansive hall in Mr. Irabu's mansion ran parallel windows that reached to the ceiling, framing the wall opposite the polished, wooden section of flooring on which Ran stood. A set of double doors rose between the buffet tables against this far wall, opening to a corridor through which Shin'ichi had left only minutes ago. But as Shin'ichi now returned from the bathroom, he strolled into the hall with a mystery girl in tow.

Not as if the girl looked _mysterious_, per se. Actually, she appeared to be a bubbly teen or young adult; it was hard to determine which, since her spritzed hairstyle and all the makeup she wore could have aged her considerably. With the cinnamon dress that hugged her curving hips, the thick, brown curls that spiraled to her small waist, the creamy skin revealed by her low V neckline, and the grey eyes that sparkled through her dramatic eyelashes, she also defined the word gorgeous.

"She looks like another one of his fan girls," Ran mumbled to herself, sticking her nose in the air, which confused the elderly woman to her left who had just asked if Shin'ichi someday planned to become a police detective.

As if biting aluminum foil and grinding it against dental fillings, however, with each glance Ran stole she squirmed in sharp, gnawing anxiety. This girl, whoever she was, waved her hands and skipped with so much excitement as she spoke that she was clearly gushing. In fact, she was _bouncing_, which Ran would not have minded so much if the girl did not have such full breasts.

_She's not—doing that on purpose, is she?_ Ran thought, her focus slowly blurring yet gaining all the potency of hot venom. _Does she think I can't see? Or maybe Shin'ichi didn't tell her that we're—that I'm . . . but that's impossible,_ Ran thought with a nervous giggle, further ignoring the conversation around her that had turned to the museum's latest acquisitions. Instead, she ran her fingers though her bangs and not-so-subtly attempted to flash the girl her solitaire engagement ring.

Soon, Shin'ichi pointed across the room, much to Ran's satisfaction, and the mystery girl finally caught sight of her, widening her liquid lined eyes. However, the temptress did not shrink with appropriate fear at the loosely concealed loathing that Ran burned into her skull; instead, she grabbed Shin'ichi's arm and waved, squealing and . . . _bouncing_.

Feeling the adrenalin pump her heart faster, Ran closed her eyes, clenching her jaw and her fists; her heartbeat throbbed in her ears, drowning out the sounds of cordial chatting and clinking crystal. Muttering an excuse, Ran broke through the sea of people and began to tramp the carpet with her brand new pumps toward Shin'ichi and that _girl_—until a hand shot out to stop her.

"Excuse me, miss," an aged butler said, retracting his hand as he bowed his bald head and pulled a card from the pocket of his pressed suit. Tucking it into Ran's fist, he gave her a placid smile and said, "The young gentleman by the door asked me to give you this message."

Ran blinked. Managing a smile and quick thanks, she thrust the card beneath the soft light of the overhead chandelier and squinted to make out some scribbled characters. Only one person she knew had that handwriting, and she wanted to know what the hell he wanted.

"_If you want to know why I'm giving you that look, think of a traffic light.—Shin'ichi"_

Though the riddle puzzled her, Ran gasped, suddenly realizing that she had paid almost no attention to Shin'ichi's actions. She recalled that he had been scratching his head, and chuckling a little, but not nearly laughing as much as the ecstatic girl. Had he been laughing at her animated jokes? Her gestures? She could not remember._ Or had he been staring down her . . . ?_

When Ran peeked over the edge of the thick card, however, she caught Shin'ichi shooting _her_ the signature "look" in question: a sarcastic, half-lidded glare loaded with intellectual disdain.

_What? As if _he_ has a reason to be upset—that jerk!_ _Just who does he think he is?_ Scowling at the card as it mocked her into submission, Ran had half a mind to crumple it. _Traffic light . . . this is no time for silly riddles! That girl . . . ._

As a slow fire swelled in her stomach, Ran envisioned what the girl might do if she were allowed to continue her shameless flirtation. Tossing over her shoulder the curls that _had_ to be artificial, she would bat her eyes and coax Shin'ichi into going onto a moonlit balcony where the two of them could be alone. And then, dropping her voice in low, velvet tones, the cheap seductress would make up some story of how she was desperate for his help. Then, throwing herself on him in fake, heaving sobs, she would sigh into Shin'ichi's neck, shed crocodile tears through her thick, waterproof lashes, take her gloss-coated mouth and kiss the lips that only _she_ had kissed, drag him into some hotel room . . . and . . . and!

At that moment, the smiling mystery girl _snuggled_ Shin'ichi's arm, breaking even Shin'ichi's scorn by forcing a hot blush to his cheeks.

That did it.

"Not on your life, you _stupid detective geek!_" Ran cried, causing some of the more sober guests to gasp as she plowed through them and across the room to her fiancé and his would-be paramour. The curly witch gaped in shock as Ran approached, letting go of Shin'ichi and leaping forward . . .

. . . to hug her.

"Oh! Miss Mouri! I've been _dying_ to meet you!" the girl chirped, whooping and latching onto Ran's neck as if it belonged to idol singer Okino Yoko. "And when I found out about how you stopped the accomplice from escaping with _one kick_, I just _had_ to thank you!"

As the girl nuzzled her, Ran stared past her shoulder at Shin'ichi, who crossed his arms and frowned, his irritated look having safely returned.

"Ran, this is Irabu Elizabeth," he said. Dangling his arm toward a nearby buffet platter, he grabbed a rice ball and munched it as Ran squirmed within Elizabeth's vice-like grip. "She was out of town during the case, so I was just filling her in."

Gasping for air in the crook of the girl's elbow, Ran grimaced, trying without success to pry her arms off. "Irabu? So you're—"

"Right!" Elizabeth cried merrily, in English. "I'm the museum owner's daughter. I just returned from visiting my mum's family in Wales, and—oh!" she squealed, finally releasing Ran and clapping in delight, "you can call me Liz!"

"L-Liz," Ran murmured, a haze settling over her senses out of more than mere asphyxiation. _Is she this friendly with everybody?_

"Turns out, Elizabeth loves karate and is a big fan of yours," Shin'ichi said, as if reading Ran's mind. Shaking his head, he licked the remaining rice ball grains from his fingers and muttered, "She came here to wait for _you_."

"Oh, _really?_" Ran spat, twitching her eyebrow in disbelief.

"But of course! Last year, I watched the championship match you won from the _front row!_" Elizabeth cried, nearly shrieking as she recommenced her girlish rampage by clasping Ran's hands. "Sorry I didn't greet you _right away_, but I came late as you can see, and I didn't want to interrupt your conversation and, well . . . I must admit that I'm a little shy."

Ran gaped. "Shy?"

The perky half-Japanese sprang up and down once more—and bounced. "But I was so _happy _when Mr. Kudou told me about how you helped save my dad's museum and how you two are to be _married_—that I could barely _contain_ myself!"

"S-so . . . that's what you were excited about," Ran breathed, half to herself, as Elizabeth hugged her again with so much force it seemed that her lifelong dream was to permanently cut off Ran's circulation. Soon, however, the unlikely trio heard calls of Elizabeth's name from the piano circle.

"I've got to go . . . mum and dad probably want me to play piano," sighed Elizabeth, relaxing her arms about Ran's throat with a deep, glossy pout. "But Miss Mouri . . . later on would you please give me your autograph? _Please?_"

Letting out a nervous laugh, Ran smiled and stammered, "Um, s-sure . . . Liz."

As Elizabeth, buoyed by her promise, skipped toward the baby grand, Ran felt that she would always remember the bile of embarrassment that now rose in her stomach, quenching the jealous fires burning there only a minute ago. Among other things, she kicked herself for certain false assumptions about Irabu Elizabeth. _Then those curls . . . were probably real._

"It'd be stupid to rub your face in this, though that _was_ pretty stupid," Shin'ichi said, the instant Elizabeth was out of earshot and seated on the leather piano bench. Then, blushing slightly, he laced his fingers through Ran's and gave her hand the lightest squeeze. "But next time I tell you that I'm innocent, believe me, okay?"

Flushing scarlet as the first notes of a sonata wafted into the air, Ran recalled a certain night when Shin'ichi had rigged a cinder block to make his Conan-sized shadow grow taller on an alley wall. But it was the warm handhold he gave her now, in the wake of her fizzled rage, that made Ran's heart skip a beat. Turning away with a smile, Ran murmured, "Okay. Though that riddle you gave me was probably just as stupid."

"I hoped you would've figured it out, but," said Shin'ichi, leaning toward her with a cheesy grin, "the solution's really simple."

Still fighting the flames on her cheeks, Ran muttered, "What is it?"

"In a traffic light, green means 'go,' yellow means 'caution,' and red means 'stop.' Green, in this case, is for the 'green eyed monster,' which you should _stop_," he added, with a chuckle, "before you 'see red'."


End file.
